


Backseat Bliss

by Devahhole



Series: Backseat Bliss [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Banter, Car Sex, Comedy, Coming of Age, Eventual Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, Funny, Homophobia, M/M, Otabek Altin Has a Big Dick, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Protective Otabek Altin, Protective Victor Nikiforov, Public Nudity, Road Trips, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Young Love, Yuri Plisetsky is a Brat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 05:30:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13357512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devahhole/pseuds/Devahhole
Summary: To make a long story short, Yuri is forced to sit in someones lap during a two hour trip, to who the hell knows where...((Otabek is only 18 and Yuri is 16)) ((Victor is 19/Chris 20/Yuuri 17))





	Backseat Bliss

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first OtaYuri fic. It's taken me awhile to even come up with the courage to take a stab at one. I've been so nervous just because I adore this ship but I have to start somewhere so here goes nothing. Thanks for reading! I hope it's enjoyable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update coming February 13, 2018  
> Sorry for the wait.

“I don’t wanna fuckin’ go!”

It’s Saturday. Another Saturday that he’s grounded and coincidentally can’t stay at home alone because of his _rebellious streak_ , as his grandfather puts it. His grandpa wasn’t home and without his permission Yuri couldn’t disobey Victor, his brother. He simply couldn’t win for losing. Being sixteen is honestly punishment enough. He hadn’t even been this surveilled when he was fifteen, a whole year ago, nobody even gave a shit whether he came or went. Now, all of a sudden, Victor and his grandpa were always in his ass about one thing or another.

_‘Yuri, a man doesn’t bare so much skin!’_

_‘Yurochka I think applying for a nice summer job would do you some good.’_

_‘Yuri don’t lock your bedroom door when company is over.’_

_‘Yurochka what do you want to do with your life? Screaming isn’t an occupation and if it is, I doubt it pays enough to keep up with your habits.’_

 “Do I have to call grandpa, is that what it’s going to take for you to get your freakin act together?” Victor threatens from somewhere downstairs. Heat clouds Yuri’s head and his fist clinch instinctively as he tries to reign in the urge to lash out _. No, not yet, he’ll definitely call then._ And although he laughs in the face of danger, his grandfather had a knack for honestly scaring the shit out of him. The old timer just isn’t as spritely as he used to be, thus physical penalties weren’t an option but what he lacked in agility, he made up for morally.

Yuri doesn’t like being the recipient of a, _when-I’m-gone_ lecture. They normally drove him to the ugliest tears and made him honestly feel like some sort of jackass, he especially hated the part where his grandfather says, _‘one day I won’t be around’._ That always yanks the resolve right, the fuck, out of him.

Presently, he heard Victor bustling around down stairs.

 “Why do I have to go? I’m fuckin’ old enough to stay home unsupervised Vitya.”

Victor made a sound of disapproval, like a huff or a scoff.  

“Didn’t catch the part where this was up for debate Yuri. Just hurry up before the guys get here.”

He hated when Victor did _that_. He never gave him a reason (even though Yuri probably still wouldn’t concede), only a demand and quite frankly Yuri was sick of the systematic belittling. The way Victor and his grandpa were treating him was absolutely ageist (he’s sure it’s a fucking thing). As if being relics gave them the right to assume that Yuri was incapable of being a rational human being. Sure, he had his moments when he behaved unattractively, some would even say, criminally insane but he doesn’t just lash out when the mood suits him. Some things really did piss him off and it’s not his fault he tends to be more outspoken than others would have liked. Honesty was way too free to waste. 

The blonde lay sprawled out on his futon, a metal bat between his bare thighs, as he prodded the wall repeatedly with it.

_Thunk—thunk. Thunk—thunk. Thunk._

There’s a chestnut framed photo directly over him, command stripped to the wall, and trembling. It’s he and Victor a few summers back, when they got along famously. When Victor wasn’t such a fucking fuddy-buddy. _We look like fat ass pigs,_ he notes to himself bitterly.

He remembers the photo. Nikolai had enrolled them into some cheesy ass dance camp, though at the time Yuri does recall begging his grandfather to go. Probably just to get the hell out of the house. Nikolai of course, also signed Victor up, to tag along and, _‘keep an eye on’_ Yuri. For whatever reason. It was the first time Yuri had ever been grateful that his grandfather was overprotective. Camp turned out to be a living hell, with kids Victors age trying to haze him. He left that place with more questions than he arrived with. The experience had changed him entirely but the whole time, he was grateful for Victor. The old Victor.

_Victor…shrewd Victor...bleh.._

“Do I have to _call grandpa_ ,” Yuri mimicked Victor’s debonair tone, twisting up his face to make the threat sound even more exaggerated.  

Yuri nudged the wall harder, he made a rhythm and closed his eyes.

“Must we resort to such _puerile_ arguments?”

“The fuck does that even mean…” Yuri mutters, rolling his eyes towards the whirring ceiling fan.

The sunlight peered through his bedroom window and warmed his eyelids. He could hear those sodding birds tweeting amidst the branches of the tree near his window. Tires skidding across tarmac and indistinct chatter. It’s unseasonably warm this October, he supposes he should be thankful—he isn’t a fan of frigid climates. When they initially moved to Florida he was doubtful that he’d ever fall in line as treacherously as Victor had but, his complexion developed some type of appealing glow and he hasn't shed a tear since their departure from Saint Petersburg. 

Saturdays were long and boring. He had no friends, so Victor practically tried to drag him to any old place and none of them enjoyable either.  Victors friends are loud and obnoxious, usually at Yuri’s expense. And that dirty bastard Chris….

“Fuck!”

Yuri screamed in exasperation, his voice echoing throughout the house, a knife to his own senses.

“The swear jar awaits your generous donation.” Victor says, against his door at the same time that he knocks once—then twice. “Yuri, I really don’t have time for this. The guys’ll be here any minute.”

“Fuck you and the goddamn jar!” Yuri hisses snidely.

“What’s that make it? One-two-three, three dollars now?” Victor asks smugly, “Don’t you realize the jar is only full because you. It’s a waste of allowance if you ask me.”

“Well nobody asked you,” Yuri retorts sourly, “I’m gonna tell you one more time Vitya, I don’t want to go. Do you really hate your lizard-brained friends that much that you’d force them to deal with me another Saturday?” Yuri inquires, placing a palm flat to his chest. 

Victor laughed throatily.

“Yuri, by now, they all know what you’re all about and besides I like having you around.”

Yuri growled, “Liar.”

“Just come on, it’ll be fun this time, I promise.”

“Not falling for that bullshit again, it’s a no for me.”

Something knocks up against Yuri’s door. Probably Victors head, as he tries to level with his younger brother. There’s a pregnant pause and Yuri closes his eyes to soak it up and relax his scrambled brain.

“It’s different this time, one of my friends from out of country has a birthday so we’re doing it big.” Victor claims, through an exhaustive sigh. How the hell was he trying to sell fun, sounding so bland.

 “Still not hearing the fun part.”

“Would you just get dressed, wear something normal and get out here?”

“Normal?” Yuri asks, “Normal?!”

“Yeah, you know, you always pitch a fit that people flirt with you so dress accordingly and that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Yuri laughed bitterly, dramatically sitting up on the stiff futon and shooting a look over his shoulder. He knows Victor can’t see it but the reaction is meaningful regardless.

“So now you’re trying to tell me how to dress? Is there no end to the policing?”

“No, I just don’t feel like putting up with you and Chris’ bickering for a whole two hours.”

Yuri’s skin crawled thinking about Chris whispering dirty things in his ear or how he shamelessly flirts. Victor always scolded his friend and Chris always laughed it off like a joke but Yuri knew Chris wasn’t bluffing about anything. If he could do the things he has said to Yuri, he would.

“Fuck Chris.”

“Four dollars?”

“Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuckingburger, mcfucker!”

“Impressive Yuri,” Victor deadpanned.

The doorbell gonged and Victor began to stir on the other side of the door.

“That must be them, so, just hurry up Yuri I’m the driver.”

Yuri crawled to the end of the futon and tossed his bat over the edge. The bat strikes the floorboard, pinpoint straight, it then teeters, plops and rolls across the floor.

Even if he chooses not to go, he’d still be home, bored to death. Even that seemed better than facing Victors friends and enduring another boring trip to the arcade or the mall to drool over girls. They were such a group of pathetic creeps. Stalking girls only to stand on the sidelines estimating the sizes of their tits. _And grandpa thinks I’m the fast one._ Victor never even seemed to be into that sort of stuff, only Chris and JJ seemed to get into the spirit of perving in public. The fuckin’ porn kings of Tampa.

Yuri strode across the white shag on the ground and opened his dresser. His fingers rubbed over the various textures of neatly folded blouses. _Which one, which one._ It’d be in the 80’s today and he definitely wasn’t going to feel discomfort in this sweltering weather because Victor’s friends couldn’t keep their curious dicks in their pants. Victor hated when he dressed fem-like, he isn’t malice about it or judgmental. He says it makes him feel uncomfortable but Yuri can’t imagine why.

He has always been singled out because of his dainty features; his pixie-like nose, puckered rouged lips and the golden flecks in his emerald eyes. His slim body and the way he carried himself didn’t help either but he’s finally come to accept that this was him. He isn’t strong like Victor, doesn’t just fit in with the guys and pretend to care about fuckin’ tits.

The guys are always looking at him like a snack and while that used to intimidate him, it no longer does.  

If Yuri was being honest with himself being a tease was exhilarating, making men second guess their sexuality kind of made him feel empowered. If he had to go with Victor and his friends, he’d make them wish they never extended the damn offer.

* * *

 

The moment he walks across the dewy lawn everyone seemed to shut up simultaneously. Victor was talking over the hood to Chris--when Chris suddenly stops talking to gawk like an idiot, in Yuri’s direction. JJ and two new additions to the gang were looking as well. Victor looked over his shoulder and then his face evaporates into some sort of unreadable mask. Chris did a combination of; a wink, whistle and smile, “Hey bay-bay.”

“Don't start Chris," Victor threatens, "I’ll be right back, you guys can get in, put that cig out Jean—my grandpa can smell that shit.”

"Like a bloodhound."  Yuri adds, mostly to himself. 

"Shit, my bad man." Jean coughs, backhanding the smoke away.

Victor reaches Yuri too quickly. Yuri only grins, thoroughly satisfied with himself.

“I guess you’ll be visiting the jar too?”

"That looks cute on you.” Victor acknowledges, though his voice sounds anything but pleasant. Victor is dressed in a trench coat, for some inane reason and under this, he's wearing a grey sweater. A beanie graces his head and his silver hair spills over his forehead silkily. 

“Oh this old thing?” Yuri asks, pretending to pluck dust off the black mesh crop top. He angles his legginged hips, arching his back and feeling his abdomen contract. "Its nothing new."

“Go change.”

Victor demands, waving an arm back towards the house. He also tries to pull the neck of the blouse back over Yuri’s exposed and protruding collar bone. Yuri twists his delicately long neck away, hissing like a creature of the damned, trapped in the leering sunlight.

“This is the only way I go quietly.” Yuri states resolutely. 

Victors jaw clenches for a bit and then he nods reluctantly, nostrils flaring. His eyes suddenly catch on to Yuri’s accessories and he pinches at the bridge of his nose.

“Why do you have a bat?”

Yuri shrugs casually, observing the wooden bat like one would a bottle of fine wine.

“For Chris’ face, plus it goes with the kicks, really ties the whole outfit together.” The blonde stated knocking the bat against his tan chuck Taylors. He swings the bat up and knights Victor’s shoulders.

"I dub thee, a fuckin' buzzkill." 

Victor doesn’t seem impressed by the notion.

“Yuri please, behave.” Victor begs, this time in urgent desperation.

“I will, if they will.”

“Whatever, just come on, we’ve wasted enough time as is.”

Victor twisted to walk back to the car, Yuri follows at his heels. A gentle breeze tousled his hair and he shouldered his bat.

“Aye Yuri, baby.” Chris greets, eyes trained predatorily on Yuri. He flutters his fingers in comical wave. Yuri gave him the finger and avoided contact and Chris gasped, feigning surprise, like Yuri has never responded to him with such vulgarity.

“I’d catch a case for you Kitten, you already know.”

 _“Christophe!”_ Victor snaps. “Back the hell off...”

Chris laughs, tossing up his arms like he’s innocent.

“C’mon Vik, you know I’m just messin around. This ass is too fat for jail.”

“ick!” JJ retches and Yuri pauses dead in his tracks, aiming the bat in JJ’s direction.

 “Why the fuck is _it_ here?” Yuri asks, looking towards Victor for a sufficient answer.

“Damn. Savage!” Chris howls with laughter and someone else joins in too. 

Jean issues a look of pure contempt at Yuri, which goes unnoticed. Thankfully. 

“Yuri, for the umpteenth time...” Victor trails off, he slips into the driver’s seat, fumbles with the keys and the next second the car stutters out a puffing roar, smoke coughing out the muffler. You could practically hear the engines gears grinding to depletion.

_Ol’ betsy is on her last legs. No wonder the old man won’t let me touch her, I’d fuckin reck this bitch._

Yuri watched the other four men noisily cram themselves into the Pontiac until he realized there would be no room for him. He stood on the outside waiting for them to notice he hadn’t moved to join them, his arms crossed over his chest.

Was someone else going to drive? Were they going to have a convoy because he couldn’t fit. Victor sticks his head out of the window, looking like he’d pounce on his brother at any given moment.  

“Is there any particular reason why you’re holding us up?” he questions with even more agitation, which Yuri didn’t even know was possible. A reaction he isn’t even trying to spur on at this point. 

“There’s no room for me. Oh well, damn--guess I can’t fit into dick fest twenty-seventeen.”

“Choose a lap and sit.” Victor orders, slipping his head back into the car. Yuri’s jaw drops and he knifes a look at his brother. Victor raises an arched brow.  

“Don’t give me that look, I advised that you dress normal. The ride won’t be that long—two hours tops.”

_That’s fucking long enough!_

“Really Victor?!” Yuri exclaims incredulously.

“The lesser of two evils is the back seat, Chris is up front so what’s the hold up?”

Yuri growled, trying to refrain from stomping the pavement like a child throwing a tantrum. No. What use would that do? He could go back to the house. He could tell Victor that this wasn’t apart of their agreement. But then, he’d be trapped in the house and it’s not like he’d be getting rid of Victor. The asshole might even cancel with his friends just to play the role of Yuri’s probation officer. Victor secretly enjoys mom’ing him. It’s like his favorite fuckin’ activity. _Well, fuck you Victor._

“You owe me for this, Vitya, I swear to fuckin god.”

Victor seems relieved that Yuri let it go this quickly.

“Whatever you want, just get in.”

“I’ll be cashing it in real soon,” Yuri assures him. He saunters to the back seat, and lowered his gaze to look into the car.

Chris was twisting the radio knob and cruising through static filled stations, with a frown on his face. "You got an aux cord in this dump?"

Victor gives a noncommittal shake of his head before saying, "I wish."

He pulls up google maps and pads a destination in.

Jean-Jackass is staring out the window and gnawing on his thumbnail, the nameless guy in the middle has his eyes closed and his fingers laced in his lap. 

The guy wearing a leather jacket was staring at his cell, a huge booted foot rooted on the pavement.  

Yuri sure as hell wouldn’t be caught dead in Jean-Jackass’ lap so this was the alternative, though they were sporting similar hairstyles. _The fuck is up with that?_ Yuri is already writing him off as a jackass by association.

_Get this over with…_

Yuri clears his throat abruptly. The guy doesn’t look up to address him, in fact, his thumbs are on the move over the screen of his phone. Was he hard of hearing? Why the hell does he have to be the confrontational one? 

Yuri appraises the stranger and notices a pair of white earbuds in his ear, a sliver of white cord against his sharp jaws. Now that he’s close enough he can hear music pumping from the headphones and the boy nudges his head in tandem.

Yuri uses his bat to poke this individual, like one would upon discovering a dead body or a wasted friend, swimming in their own vomit. 

The boy flinches, looks up and see's Yuri. Yuri offers the fakest placid smile and the man with the undercut (twinning with JJ) yanks the headphones from his ears.

He looks around frantically for a split second, like he’s crash landed on another planet and staring through eyes that he can’t trust. It would’ve been undeniably cute, had Yuri not been so moody this evening.

The boy suddenly looks up at Yuri, really looks at Yuri—with a type of recognition. And Yuri swears to fuckin’ god that he has to blink slowly, to absorb the guy looking at him because there’s no way he can understand the science of it all. Victor has always brought home some questionable characters, but this was by far the first time he was rendered speechless.

Usually, he immediately jumped right into a rivalry. This time, he was so quiet, he could hear his blood trickling through his veins.

Warm tawny eyes bore right into Yuri’s and his breath came out in the strangest flutter. _Shit, he’s…hot._ Yuri tucked an errant blonde hair behind his ear and hid his bat behind his back. He bit at his inner cheek and swallowed audibly. 

“Uh-hi?” The boy asks, evidently bewildered. “Something wrong?”

Yuri nodded. So, the guy was hot. There’s one of two ways this could go; Yuri could turn over a new leaf today, he could be someone decent and see where that gets him. Or, he could not seduce his brother’s friends. He had done it to Chris one time and look what that turned him into. A fucking pedophile, that’s what.

Or, the third option. He could just be a dignified little brother, who doesn’t seduce or pick fights with his brother’s friends. _What’s it gonna be Plisetsky?_

 “You’re in my seat.”

The guy looks puzzled but his lips quirked up in a crooked smirk and he began to nod, with some type of familiarity. He tucked his phone into some secret compartment inside of his worn-out leather jacket.    

“You must be the infamous _Yura_.”

_So Victor talks smack about me._

“Yuri,” Yuri corrected lowly, “and _you,"_ he drags out, "must be,  _still_ in my seat.”

The boy has the nerve to let his eyes wander over Yuri. It’s way worse than Chris’ looks. It was a thorough sweep, one that made Yuri feel absolutely naked, to the bone. His body felt the shakes, like some sort of flame was grazing him. His mouth gapes unconsciously and when their eyes meet again, his insides feel like they’re curling inward.

_Weirdo…_

“Yuri get in Otabek’s lap, _now_.” Victor says in a clipped tone, “we haven’t got all day.”

 _Otabek...stupid name_. _Doesn't sound American either._

Otabek situates himself in the backseat and then presents his lap to Yuri, like it’s some sort of noble steed.  Yuri can’t help it, but his eyes zero right in on the guys crotch. He’s never done this, sat on someone’s lap. Especially not like this. His heart hammered against his rib-cage and he chewed on his lip.

“You’re small enough to fit.”

“Fuck you guy.”

Otabek is unruffled by that and Yuri brushed past his hands and plopped down on his knee, refusing to sit on his lap.

An abundance of heat envelopes him and the overwhelming proximity of the guy is enough to drown him out. The leather jacket is cold but sticks to Yuri’s dampening skin. He can smell a light scent of tobacco, woodsy detergent and…and Doritos? Seriously? And minty gum, that doesn’t diminish the cheesy zest of Doritos. Fucking junkie. 

“Watch your leg.” A deep voice cautions behind him, close to Yuri’s ear, sending flutters down his spine. Yuri fights down a shiver, starting at the base of his spine. Otabek leaned forward to shut the door and Yuri could feel him, folding against his back.

 Otabek gave a powerful jerk and it shook Yuri, making his stomach flop uneasily.

The strength was necessary, the car’s doors never closed without a fight. It normally took Yuri two tries to close the door. Yuri tried to ignore Otabek adjusting and shifting beneath him, his hands made no contact with Yuri. Much to Yuri’s dismay or relief, he doesn’t know what he’d rather have happen.

To set his mind at ease, he grabs ahold of Victors headrest and leans forward, so that he could complain to his brother the whole trip. While being a safe distance from whatever the hell Otabek was packing.  

Once Victor pulled out of the front yard, he began humming to a tune on the radio. Chris threatens to change the station if he can't hold a tune and Jean-Jackass had his head out the window like the dog Yuri knew him to be. Yuri chuckles.

“What’s so funny Yura?”

His seat asks, defiantly referring to him by a name that did not belong to him.   

“Are you hard of hearing?” Yuri asks, casting a side eye that doesn’t reach Otabek, "I told you, my name is Yuri."

Otabek does a cute little laugh, that rumbles in his chest like thunder and it’s taking everything in Yuri to remain unimpressed by how, for lack of better word, ballsy, this guy is. What the hell is he doing with Victor and Co?

“What? Come again?” Otabek asks, obviously being a dick. 

“Are you, FUCKING, hard of hearing!?” Yuri reiterates, yelling over the stupid music. 

“Yuri.” Victor scolds with finality. 

 “Asshole.” Yuri remarks under his breath. 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and feedback are welcomed but not demanded. :D 
> 
> **Will try to update every Saturday or Sunday
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
